Life in these United States: Lessons from Haiti

I arrived at work this past Thursday morning and realized it had been three months since my journey home from Haiti. It has been a dream, an agonizing walk through reverse culture-shock, (yes, it really does exist), a surreal passing of time, a series of transitions, a lesson in changed stateside relationships, a re-learning of friendship, a fascinating study of what is important, a processing of a unique and singular experience beyond any I could have imagined for myself. The nineteen months I spent in Haiti were absolutely precious and blessed and traumatic and challenging and joyful and heartbreaking. I think of the children every day and have wished countless times to have Erline or Stanley on my lap as I sit and read, or as I walk into church. I have relocated to Minnesota, and I have started work in pediatric Palliative Care with an extraordinary team of health care professionals. I have bought a car, moved to a beautiful area, begun to explore not one, but two exciting cities, met new and old friends, rediscovered my love of gardening, had to adjust to closed-toed shoes again, and have tried to navigate post-Haiti life with a heart that continues to deepen.

The children from St. Anne gathering at my goodbye party

 My intensity has been challenging for those I love – to arrive full-force having left an environment where chaos, extremes and moment-to-moment change are the norm, and the weight of a day can be heavy. Contrast that to the order and relative calm of a functional and structured society, where instant gratification is pretty much guaranteed if we wish it.  A massive adjustment, and I have not borne it very gracefully. Words have been misunderstood, passions have been ignited and intentions have been misinterpreted. Such is the life of a heart and mind moving back into this culture with the memory of so many moments, stories, lives, feelings, emotions.  The ceremony of the mass, the variety at the supermarket, the language of texting, the organized and ordered roads, the crazy number of coffee shops, the beauty of spring, however late it arrives, the words of friends taken to heart, the existence of such disparity even within my geographic area. So much to comprehend, so much to process. On that Thursday morning, I looked down at my dressy top and pants, my cute flats and the Caribou coffee in my hand as I walked from my late-model, air-conditioned car, hair down and styled and make-up on my face. I had to pause for a few moments just trying to take it in.

Saying goodbye to Christo, my beautiful buddy in Cancer.

The words have been spinning in my head for weeks – and there are more to come. For now, here are just a few of the lessons I have learned from Haiti, ones that I wish to share and implement in my everyday life now. 

+      Life is precious. Every life. The countless small encounters we have each day can have meaning. Eye contact, a smile, a genuine hello, a thank you.  Each little gesture can have a radical effect on the other person.  For every request I was able to assist with, there were hundreds I could not, the many individuals who would approach me on the street and for whom I could provide no material assistance. But lives are changed with the knowledge that someone is validating our story, listening to an experience, or even for a short moment engaging with us. We can love. We can be kind. We can honor the life of another person. There is no financial cost, no monthly donation required. 

+    The worst poverty is that of the unloved. Poverty exists in every culture, even in the wealthiest circles. It may not be material – it may be spiritual or emotional. We all suffer from some form of it – be it insecurity, striving to prove our worth, doubt, fear, comparison, anger. But the worst type of poverty imaginable is the poverty of the heart, the lack of any acknowledgement that one is valued and cared for and important simply because one is alive. How amazing would it be if every person knew their life meant something to another? If we would take the time to dignify others? 

+      Treasure and honor the moments you have with each other. Be present as fully as possible. We simply do not know how many moments we have left! Put down the iPhone, resist the urge to check your email, and just sit and BE with each other. The world can wait while we take time to nurture our human relationships with direct, person-to-person contact. So many of my hours in Haiti were spent just sitting and laughing with the nurses and the kids, sharing stories and learning their language. Not just Creole, but the language of their hearts and minds.

the best of three takes with the kids at St. Anne!!

+      Life is too short to leave issues unresolved and to remain in conflict with others. Work to make peace and to resolve disagreements. We do not know if tomorrow will come for any of us. The worst is the unresolved and uncertain situation, where we wish we had apologized or reached out. I also believe that we often tell ourselves it is too late, when all it would take is that one more phone call or letter asking forgiveness. 

+      If you love someone, for goodness’ sake, tell them so! Again and again. Too often we hesitate to share how we truly feel about those close to us. We are so quick to criticize, and not nearly as ready to compliment and encourage. And yet what do we all crave? That knowledge that we are valued and worth something to someone, just because we ARE. Not because of what we are. Just because we are. 

+      Great suffering can occur when people feel they are misunderstood, and when they feel judged by others. Listen – to both what is being said AND to what is NOT being said. If you do not understand, are confused or are even offended, ask questions to clarify and reserve judgment. 

+      Forgiveness is freeing – both for you and for the person needing your forgiveness. It is also letting go of the hope that the past could be any different than it was. (Thank you, T.D. Jakes – I have never forgotten this). 

Erline and me - I am wearing hearts that were created by the kids and presented to me as they said their goodbyes.

+      Trust is not easily earned, but is very easily broken.  When you state something as truth, be sure you mean it. Countless promises have been broken in the lives of the Haitians, by well-meaning volunteers and NGO’s, by foreigners who want to gratify and offer hope. But false hope is just that - false. The same goes for our relationships and friendships. If you state something as fact, be sure you mean it and will cherish it. And if you cannot, be sure to apologize genuinely and without excuses. 

+      If the job needs to be done, do it. Let no duty be “beneath you.” Whatever it takes to contribute to the betterment of your work or home life, be willing to make that effort and honor those around you by doing so.

+   Children are the hope of the world. This one is a carry-over from my time in Nicaragua – but if you are ever depressed, discouraged, weighed down by life, go look into the eyes of a child, sit and play with him or her. The energy and determination they possess and the joy in their smiles as they discover and share the excitements of their days will bring life and laughter. 

+   Never underestimate the impact you are having. This is not meant to pressure us, but to keep us aware that we are being watched, our actions being measured as we profess a faith or a philosophy. Live out loud, in words and speech, in actions and in truth. 

+   Laughter is healing. Laughter is hopeful. Laughter is intimacy. I knew I had reached a level of trust with the nurses in the clinic when we could laugh with each other. I was willing to make mistakes and sound ridiculous as I learned Creole and learned about Haitian life. Humor was a way to reach the one nurse who intimidated me the most. I am the best kind of target for teasing – I immediately fall for it and react strongly. So the laughter abounded throughout every day and put us at ease with each other. It also reminded me not to take myself so seriously.

Oh, Haiti, I miss you. I miss the genuine presence of each moment, the sun and the laughter and the sounds and the little hands and feet, the sweat and the tears and the chanting of my name and the full-body hugs of the little ones. The 7Up, the morning coffee, the baby cows mooing like they are full-grown, their mommas checking for cars before letting them cross to the pasture, the rice and the beans and the spice and the chicken, the refreshment of a cold shower at the end of a brutal day, the simplicity of life, the knowledge that one life could make others better. The determination of a people who refuse to give up, no matter what the cost, who fight for each moment and possess faith far beyond mine. Three nurses who showed me every day that if we have faith, hope and love, we have the tools to succeed. The bravery of young children who run after life with abandon, who dance and sing and love and rejoice and embrace each day with all they have. I pray that I can bring these and so many more tidbits into life here in the States, and that the depth of my heart will only serve to dignify, love and be present to those who are now before me.